Chapter 3: Is That Mrs. Parker?

Blake's POV

The Four Seasons Los Angeles ballroom buzzed with the elite of the jewelry industry beneath me. From my vantage point on the second floor VIP section, their excited chatter melted into white noise as I closed my eyes, letting Michael Chen continue his financial report.

"Third quarter projections show a 15% increase in—" Michael's voice trailed off.

"Why did you stop?" I kept my eyes closed, my tone dropping several degrees.

"I apologize, Mr. Parker." Michael snapped back as he continued. "The third quarter projections..."

His voice faded into the background again as I pulled out my phone, opening my chat history with Audrey. Her last message was from a week ago: Try to drink less coffee at work today.

I stared at those words, remembering how she used to flood my inbox with messages every day. Always nagging like a grandmother - checking if I'd eaten, reminding me about meetings, sending photos of that spoiled cat Snow. A dozen messages a day, at least, each one filled with her unnecessary concern.

Now? A week of silence. Not even an explanation about why she'd terminated the pregnancy without consulting me.

"Any news from her?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Michael's report stopped again. "Mrs. Rebecca called this morning. She said Mrs. Parker is still resting at home, everything's fine."

"Heartless woman." I instinctively commented.

The cynical part of me wondered if this was another one of her manipulation tactics. First the pregnancy termination without consulting me, then the divorce papers, and now this dramatic disappearing act. Classic Audrey Sinclair moves, weren't they?

But were they?

An unwelcome voice in my head reminded me that in five years, she'd never actually played games like this. Her love had always been... No. Don't go there, Parker.

"Mr. Parker?" Michael's tentative voice interrupted my thoughts. "Should I continue with the report?"

I waved my hand dismissively, standing to stretch my legs. The VIP section overlooked the main ballroom, giving a perfect view of the dance floor where couples were beginning to gather for the evening's entertainment.

"Mr. Parker..." Michael let a sigh, pointing at the dance floor. "That woman... is that Mrs. Parker?"

"Impossible." The word came automatically. Audrey was supposed to be at home, resting from her convenient illness. Besides, she'd never—

The thought died as I followed Michael's finger. There, in the center of the dance floor, was my wife.

The dress she wore was a deep, burning red, cut with the precision and elegance that marked the work of Europe's finest couturiers. It hugged her figure in a way that made my throat go dry, the material flowing like liquid fire with each step of the waltz. Her dark hair was styled in elegant waves, framing a face that looked both familiar and foreign.

This wasn't the carefully composed Mrs. Parker who tiptoed around my family's mansion. This was a side of Audrey Sinclair I'd never seen before - confident, radiant, almost defiant.

She was leading her dance partner through the steps with practiced ease. An unknown man in a black suit, his dancing notably less polished than hers. My eyes narrowed at the sight of his hand resting just a bit too low on her back, and the polite smile playing on her lips. I stood up abruptly, and Michael was a bit stunned. "Sir— "

I ignored him, already striding toward the stairs. The burning anger in my chest demanded immediate confrontation.

"Blake, darling!"

The sugary-sweet voice cut through my rising anger like a silk-wrapped knife. Laurel stood at the top of the grand staircase, a vision in white. She glided closer, her smile camera-perfect as always.

"Laurel? What brings you to LA?" I found myself asking, momentarily distracted from my intended confrontation.

"For a photoshoot," she explained, her voice carrying that practiced mix of casualness and charm. "When I heard about tonight's gala with all these jewelry designers and merchants, I simply had to come. I'm looking for some pieces to endorse, you know."

Her eyes sparkled as she glanced toward the dance floor. "And when I saw everyone dancing downstairs... I was just thinking how unfortunate it is not to have the right partner for such a lovely evening."

My eyes drifted back to the dance floor, where Audrey was still moving gracefully with her unknown partner. The sight of her exposed neck as she laughed made my jaw clench.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Laurel's hand touched my arm.

I nodded, more out of habit than desire. "Sure."

As we made our way down, I noticed Audrey had switched partners again - now dancing with a man in a navy suit. James Collins.

Her senior from college, the one who'd helped her a lot and almost won her heart before I came into the picture.

They moved with practiced familiarity, close enough now that I could catch fragments of their conversation.

"...still designing?" Collins was asking.

"Some pieces," Audrey replied, her voice carrying a warmth I hadn't heard in weeks. "Though jewelry design has taken a backseat lately."

"A shame. Your talent was always exceptional."

I pulled Laurel closer, steering us within better hearing range.

"Speaking of exceptional," Laurel's voice carried a hint of irony, "Mrs. Parker seems... different tonight," Laurel observed, her voice carrying a delicate mix of concern and disdain. "Almost like she's celebrating something. Though after what happened at Mayo Clinic last week, I would think she'd show more... discretion."

My grip on Laurel's waist tightened involuntarily. The mention of the hospital brought back the image of Audrey's pale face in that stark white room.

"Blake, darling?" Laurel's voice softened with practiced concern. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

"She must be upset, seeing us together," Laurel continued, lowering her eyes demurely. "That's probably why she's dancing with all these men. You know... to get your attention."

"There's nothing between us." The words came out like ice, even as my eyes tracked Audrey's movements across the dance floor.

Was this her revenge? Knowing I wouldn't – couldn't – acknowledge her publicly, was she deliberately flaunting herself before me? The thought sent a surge of anger through my chest. The same woman who'd spent three years carefully guarding our secret was now dancing with abandon, drawing every eye in the room.

Including mine.

Before I could process that, the music stopped. The event MC's voice boomed through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It's time for our traditional partner exchange dance! When the spotlight lands on you, please prepare to switch partners with the nearest couple!"

The ballroom lights dimmed. A spotlight began to dance across the floor, slowing as it approached our section. I already knew where it would stop.

Time seemed to freeze as two spotlights locked into place – one on Laurel and me, the other on Audrey and Collins.

I couldn't help but stare at Audrey. In the harsh spotlight, I could see what the distance had hidden – she'd lost weight, enough to make her cheekbones sharper than they should be. There were shadows under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite conceal.

What happened to you in the past week?

The thought came unbidden, followed quickly by anger. What right did I have to worry about her when she was here, dancing with him, wearing that dress, smiling like she hadn't just walked away from our marriage?

The MC's voice cut through my thoughts: "Couples in the spotlight, please prepare to exchange partners!"

I watched as Collins released Audrey's waist, saw her take a deep breath as she turned toward me.

For a moment, just a moment, her mask slipped. Our eyes met.